Dark Knight: Absolute Pleasure
by Cimmerii Eques
Summary: Batman investigates the death of his daughter and others at the hands of the Joker and Harley Quinn
1. Chapter 1

It had been weeks since he'd been out. A trip to the east coast to check into his recently acquired bio-tech firm, Medea[i], then a week in Metropolis attending to other affairs, it had been almost a month since he'd smelled the night air of Gotham. It was good to be here, if not under the best of circumstances.  
  
The message from Gordon had been, if not panicked, more urgent than usual. The old cop wasn't a cop anymore, but he still had connections. It had been over a year now since he'd been ousted as police commissioner, over a year since Bruce had gotten a message from him. "City Morgue, 2 am, next Thursday." Short, precise, everything he'd come to expect from Gordon, but it was the tone that spoke more than just the message.  
  
He stopped on the building across from the morgue, looking, watching. Gotham was quiet. There were the usual night noises, in the distance a siren sounded, but this time of night even the vermin were reasonably quiet. It was probably why Gordan had picked it, there wasn't much to do, considerate of him.  
  
He cased the morgue, looking for anything unusual, anyone out of place. Things looked good, but he went through his routine, make three complete circles over thirty minutes before finally making his way down to the street. One of the back doors was propped open. It didn't take long to find the smoker who had provided his entrance. As tempting as it was the lock the kid out doing so would raise alarm that he could ill afford.  
  
"It's been quite a while hasn't it Jim?" He asked in the vault, Gordon didn't jump like he'd used to. Maybe it was the timber of Bruce's voice that calmed him, maybe he'd learned to expect a punctual response, Bruce didn't know.  
  
"Yes," Gordon said, his hand resting on one of the vault doors. "Thank you for coming." There was more wrong here than a simple case. Jim's voice was sad, moroseful, even. Bruce looked at the name on the vault. 'Kaylie Gordon,' it read. Oh no. He closed his eyes for a moment. Jim's granddaughter.  
  
"I'm sorry." He said, reaching a hand out and placing it on his old friend's shoulder. This would explain why Jim had been given access. If he felt he'd needed to call Batman... that meant he couldn't crack the case on his own. Jim opened the vault and pulled the body of his granddaughter from the cold.  
  
"Toxicology has found something, but the lab hasn't been able to identify it." He said evenly. The body was still covered in a translucent bag, he just ran his fingers over it. "She was turning tricks down at Alibasters." Gordon said. Alibasters was a strip club. Bruce knew most of the whores in the city though Kaylie certainly hadn't been one.  
  
Jim must have sensed the question, "No she wasn't hooking, she was a dancer, had demanded it actually, working her way through college. Her mother had come to me about it. There was no way convincing Kaylie differently though, so I found her the cleanest strip club to work in that I could. Apparently it wasn't clean enough." He said, his voice on the edge of cracking.  
  
He unzipped the body bag slowly. Her face was ghostly white, more so than the army of bodies that Bruce had seen in his years working the night. She was still made up from work, glitter still adorned her face and chest. Her face, despite the rigor mortis was stretched into a grin.  
  
#  
  
"Yes, Yes, Yes!" She cried on top of him. She slammed back down onto him driving him as deep into her as he would go. Not quiet the depths of ecstasy as she was used to, but she'd have the last laugh. She grabbed his hand and rolled several of his fingers around in her mouth, feeling him grow inside her. Close now, oh so close. She discarded his fingers and hunkered down like a jockey on a racehorse, pumping furiously.  
  
"Give it to me lover, fill me up." She growled in his ear. She watched his eyes lock open as she felt the hot jets pulse from him. She smiled and buried him in her quim as he grew again. He twitched for almost a minute, deliciously, gasping for air, his pelvic thrusts finally bringing her to her own orgasm. She smiled as she fell from the giddy high. She sat on him for several moments, admiring the smile on his unblinking face. She convulsed on him, now a rigid pole, nothing but an object d'art. She tried to pull herself off of him, he'd grown considerably larger as the drug took effect, she tripped and fell off the bed unceremoniously.  
  
"You shoulda warned me about that Mr. J." She growled through her teeth as he oozed out of her. She grabbed his shirt, discarded by the bed and soaked him up. She threw the shirt to cover him. It landed on his penis, how appropriate.  
  
"I knew I was sexy Mr. Jerome, but you don't need to pitch a tent on my account." She giggled. She pulled on her underwear, adjusted her butt floss and scrounged around for the rest of her clothes. She'd picked this hotel because there was a fire escape she could shimmy down to avoid Jerome's goons. Mr. J couldn't send his own goons to rescue her, not yet, and she saw that as an affront anyway. She was capable of taking care of her self.  
  
She looked down through the fire escape. Damn, there were goons there too. Well, nowhere to go but up.  
  
"Of course it worked Harley, you need to have more faith in me." He'd say, never mind that it had been her idea, never mind that she'd found and seduced the scientist to create it and the process for making it. He always claimed the spotlight for himself. She sighed, well of course he did he was an egomaniac with delusions, (hrm, were they really delusions?) of grandeur.  
  
Ah well, he'd never get to see the faces of their victims, never get to feel their delicious last few moments, grinding away. She smiled; Joker could claim all the credit, she got to have all the fun and make him jealous at the same time. That's how this had all started anyway really. She wanted a little variety, to convince Mr. J that it was his idea for her to screw around on him, well that was just a happy consequence.  
  
#  
  
"Connie, pickup Elizabeth and get down to Hotel Blackhawk wouldja?" It wasn't a request that came over his cell, Captain was laid back though, something that Frank appreciated about her.  
  
"Problem boss?" He asked. He was still driving, juggling his Coke and phone while plying downtown Gotham.  
  
"You'll know when you get there." She said as the line went dead. Great, doubtless Liz was at home with her newly beloved, out in Winslow. That meant a twenty-minute drive to pick her up, then another twenty minutes back into the city. He sighed. Working with a partner was a real pain in the ass sometimes. He hit Liz's speed dial on his phone and turned on Lincoln Street, heading out of the city.  
  
"Answer the phone Liz." He mumbled on the fourth ring.  
  
"This had better be good." The annoyed, breathless voice on the other end of the line said.  
  
"You ain't the only one what thinks so," Frank Constance said, navigating around a slower car. "I'll be there in twenty. Maybe you could get a shower in before I have to pick you up this time." He said.  
  
"Yeah, fine." she said angrily. She knew he wouldn't call unless it was business. Things had been a bit strained between them the last few months. He knew they were trying for a family, but he also knew that the former ice queen was enjoying herself too much too. He sighed and plugged his phone in, it was chirping at him.  
  
"This had better be damned good." He said to the bobbling hula girl on the dashboard. He was on the way home from a bar crawl, without a girl in the passenger's seat. He was ready to finish drinking himself to sleep. No rest for the wicked he supposed.  
  
#  
  
"Whadda ya got Sergeant?" Frank asked, as he entered the Hotel Blackhawk. It was a seedy rundown joint frequented by hookers and junkies. The guy behind the counter kept a roll of police tape so that the beat guys didn't have to be bothered to get it out of their cars.  
  
"Maxwell Jerome. Looks like he had himself a really good trick. He's dead." The charlie shift Sergeant said, as they walked into the elevator. Liz was still pissed being disturbed mid cotius, she fumed. Both of their expressions changed on hearing the name.  
  
"Shit." Frank said as the doors closed. Max Jerome, head of the Fontana Families drug operations on the south side of Gotham. "You got his boys?" He asked as the Sergeant punched the button for the third floor.  
  
"Yeah, his man give us a description that matches half the whores in Gotham, they didn't see her leave though." Frank's eyebrow shot up at this.  
  
"She ain't around?" He asked. Shit, that made it a possible homicide, not just Max Jerome blowing a gasket while his girl blew him. He looked over at Liz, she just sighed and looked up at the elevator panel, waiting for the lumbering old crate to get them to the third floor.  
  
"Nope." The Sergeant said.  
  
They'd taped off the room. The floor was deserted. Frank was sure that once word got around that Max Jerome's boys were looking for the girl he'd taken to bed the rats had abandoned ship as fast as they could. Frank stifled a yawn as they walked into the room. He was momentarily blinded as the photographer captured the crime scene. He blinked a few times before recognizing the photographer.  
  
"Evenin' Mike," he said, looking down at Max's body. He sure looked a happy stiff. Who wouldn't be going out that way?  
  
"Jesus Frank," Liz said, looking closely at Max's face.  
  
"What I'd be happy to go out that way myself." He said.  
  
She scowled at him. "Spare me. Bodies don't hold expressions like that. Think about it. When's the last time you saw a smilin' stiff." Then it really hit Frank.  
  
"Ah shit." He said, knowing now why the Captain had called him.  
  
"Uh huh. He's back." She said. ----------------------- 


	2. Chapter 2

#  
  
"Master Bruce." The voice was quiet, comforting, it drew him back from dark nightmares. Nightmares where the face and other parts of Kylie Gordon twirled on a pole with that hideous pale face, smiling at him.  
  
"Alfred?" He asked groggily, then he smelled the coffee.  
  
"It is half past ten sir. You have an appointment with your Barry Michaels at noon." Alfred said setting down a light breakfast on a tray. Barry Michaels, head of R&D for Wayne Industries' Internet Subsidiary.  
  
"Cancel that Alfred, I need to talk to someone at Medea." He said, sitting up.  
  
"Anyone in particular sir?" Alfred asked.  
  
"Find me their best virologist. Get them here by this afternoon. Tell them to bring any equipment they might need to isolate a new bug." He said. His own labs probably had the equipment, and to be honest he could probably isolate it himself, but another set of eyes never hurt. "Actually, I'll keep that appointment with Barry, but clear my afternoon schedule."  
  
"Yes sir." Alfred said, retiring from the room. Bruce couldn't get her face out of his mind. There was something there though... She didn't have that classic Joker smile on her face. It wasn't quite right. He couldn't place his finger on it yet. He grabbed the coffee and a piece of toast before heading for his lab.  
  
They weren't the same. He'd looked at the faces of Joker's last victims, the last time he'd concocted up some chemical cocktail that left the bodies with a smiling face. They were obviously different. Joker's smiles were grotesque caricatures of smiles. The smile on Kylie Gordon's face was... different.  
  
"History lesson sir?" Alfred asked, entering the lab with Bruce's suit.  
  
"Kylie Gordon is dead Alfred." He said, still looking at the face from the past.  
  
"Barbara's oldest? She would be, let's see, twenty one now?" Alfred asked.  
  
"In two weeks." Bruce said, looking down at the case file Jim had confided in him. The face that smiled back at him had familiar features. It was a picture from before she'd died, a graduation photo, taken with her mother. He hadn't been there for that picture, he'd respected Barbara's request to stay away. Now Kylie was gone. He'd been out of town when it had happened. He hadn't even known about the dancing.  
  
Alfred shuffled the case file, finding one of the crime scene photos. "You believe he has come back." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"Yes, but there's something different, look at the smiles." Bruce said.  
  
"Yes, the more recent," Alfred was kind enough not to attach a name to the case, "is defiantly of a different quality. Is this why you had me summon the virologist?"  
  
"Yes," Bruce said, heading for the shower. He would be late for his meeting if he didn't hurry.  
  
#  
  
"Harley, so glad you're back. I heard the good news over the radio." He said, welcoming her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. He was being nice, it set her on edge. Nothing good ever came from Mr. J feeling nice.  
  
"It didn't take as long as I thought." She said playfully, no need to set him off by breaking character. "Jerome went off like a football player on prom night." She giggled.  
  
"Football player?" He asked. His smile looked dangerous. She had wanted to make him jealous, she wasn't so sure that had been a good idea now. He walked behind her, examining her. "You make it sounds like he was a big stud."  
  
"He was by the time I'd finished with him," she said, "Stiff as a board." She smiled as he stalked around her like a hungry hyena.  
  
"You know dear, this costume you're wearing... delicious." He said. She hadn't had a chance to change out of the conservative skirt she'd worn to get Jerome into bed. She didn't know what the dead drug boss had for lawyers, but she'd played the role expertly for him. Maybe it had been his way of getting conjical visits when he'd been in county lockup, she didn't know or particularly care.  
  
It did excite her the way it made Joker act though. She hadn't seen him so eager to 'mark his territory' since they'd first hooked up. She loved it, the ability to make him, who was so flighty and unpredictable, concentrate on one thing... It was a power that intoxicated her.  
  
"Hrump," She pouted, "I'll think that you want me in skirts all the time." He pushed the skirt up and pulled on her thong, burying the floss in her. She practically gushed at his touch.  
  
"Better access." He whispered in her ear evilly. "To punish naughty naughty Harley." He pushed her down on the table in front of her, grinding against her, almost pulling her off the floor by her thong. She let him get in a few gyrations before turning around and slapping him.  
  
"That will be quite enough!" She said, her voice guardedly straight. She didn't want to be a piece of meat. She wanted to be taken, a prize for his frustration. She had to be careful though, push him too far and he would kill her. It was part of the game, the rush she got from pushing his buttons. The idea that even the slightest wrong move and he'd slit her throat, it was intoxicating.  
  
Turning had yanked her thong to the side, she felt herself, and probably the remnants of Jerome, dribbling down her thigh. He sniffed at her, his face returning to it's normal grin.  
  
"You really are a naughty girl," he said. He released her and turned away. "Go clean up now, we have work to do." He said, walking behind the desk. She saw red. No! It wasn't fair! She wanted him, wanted to drive him mad with desire and receive those delicious hammer blows from him! She growled.  
  
"Run along now Little Bo Peep, wash that nasty spunk off and get back here. We've got a date." He said, looking down at the mess of papers on the desk. He was deliberately ignoring her now, turning the tables. She ripped her underwear off and threw them at him before she stormed off. She hated him. She hated herself more for the way she squished when she walked.  
  
#  
  
"Jerome was hopped up on Ecstasy and Crack when he bought it." The lab tech told them. It had been an exhausting morning, running Jerome's goons through the interrogation. They were out for blood, smelling that this wasn't your run of the mill blow out. Liz and he couldn't really hold them on anything, other than illegal weapons charges. The Fontana family's lawyers would have them out on bail by the end of the day.  
  
"That doesn't explain the smile." Liz said testily. She was such a bitch sometimes, especially without much sleep.  
  
"No, I don't have an explanation for that. We did find traces of something else in his system, but we couldn't identify it. It'll have to go USAMRIID, or someplace that has an electron microscope." He said.  
  
"It does explain the heart attack and embolism though. He musta broke a heart rate of 250, God only knows what his blood pressure shot up to." Frank said, to himself as much as the others. "So his trick shot him full of coke in coitus?"  
  
"Nuh uh," Liz said. "No needle in the room, not punctures on Jerome."  
  
"So he lit up before they started." He said, knowing that wasn't it.  
  
"Nope, he woulda had the heart attack where ever he lit up." Liz said. "You know that Frank." The lab tech just watched their banter. "It's the smile Frank, stop dodging the issue."  
  
"You're right," he said. "Any traces of the cocktail that Joker used on his last victims?" He asked the tech. He knew the answer though, the smile hadn't been right. More of an ecstatic look than the grotesque smirk that Joker left on his victims.  
  
"Not really, I mean there were constituent bits, but not the cocktail he used last time." The tech said. "Actually, the profile matches another case that came in a week or so ago." He presented a case file to them.  
  
"Oh shit." Frank said taking one look at the name on the side of the folder. Kaylie Gordon.  
  
"Samples have already gone off to USAMRIID, should have some prelims later in the week." The tech said.  
  
#  
  
Alfred watched her stomp down the stairway. Dr. Allison James, she looked angry. She had every reason to be naturally, pulled from whatever research she had been doing. He held the sign with her name on it. He would have used the corporate jet, but by giving him all afternoon rather than a specific time Master Bruce had allowed Alfred to set up a first class spot on a regular airline. The butler was aware of the need for some frugality, even if his employer was not.  
  
"Miss James, I am Alfred, Mister Way..." he started before she cut him off.  
  
"I don't care who you are and I don't appreciate being pulled from a study during a critical time to be brought here to perform some song and dance for a wealthy dandy!" She said. She needed to vent, he knew it. Better at him than at Master Bruce. He bowed his head slightly.  
  
"If you'll follow me." He said politely. He motioned to two porters he'd brought along to collect her ticket stub and retrieve her bags.  
  
"What about my bags?" She asked, as the two hired men approached.  
  
"Terrance and Michael will bring them. We are to pick up Mr. Wayne from his meeting at WayNet." He said.  
  
"You expect me to trust my bags to two..." She started.  
  
"Yes Miss James." He said flatly, ending her protest. She followed obediently.  
  
"It's Misses actually," she said as they emerged into the bright afternoon sunlight.  
  
"I do apologize," He said opening the door to the Rolls for her. The ride to WayNet was short, the headquarters was well out of the city. Mr. Wayne was waiting in the lobby as Alfred pulled up. He hoped that he hadn't been waiting long.  
  
"Thank you Alfred," He said absent mindedly as the Butler held the door open for him. "Oh," he said on seeing Allison. Alfred just smiled.  
  
"You were expecting someone else?" She asked.  
  
"I wasn't expecting anyone actually Miss..." He started as Alfred pulled away.  
  
"Misses, Doctor, actually. Doctor Allison James." She said.  
  
"Of course," Bruce said slightly flushed. "You probably wondering why I've brought you half way across the country when you were in the middle of obviously important research."  
  
"Well, it was at the front of my mind." She said testily.  
  
"I'm doing a favor for a friend. I need to you analyze a sample for me," he said, producing a vial of blood. Kaylie's blood. He tried not to dwell on it. "This sample actually. The toxicology brought back the normal stuff, ecstasy, cocaine, but there's another component that the toxicologists couldn't identify. That's what I would like you to get under the scope and pick apart."  
  
"Is it a virus?" She asked.  
  
"I don't know. I just said we'd do the analysis, but we need it in the next day or two."  
  
She looked at her new boss with a bit of trepidation. "I'm not a toxicologist Mr. Wayne. I'm a virologist, sure I can work an electron microscope, but if it turns out that this isn't a virus..."  
  
"Listen, I just need you to take a look and tell me what you think. If it's not a virus then we can take it to someone else, but I need someone who is good at taking an invasive agent apart and telling people how it does what it does. The president of Medea told me you were the best for that sort of thing."  
  
"Does this have anything to do with the sample that got sent from the Gotham Police to USAMRIID?" She asked.  
  
"How do you know about that?" He asked.  
  
"We work closely with USAMRIID, even use their scopes on occasion, or show them the anti-antrax drugs we've been working on. It's kinda hard to miss a box with a Gotham return address on the director's desk." The Rolls stopped in front of Wayne Industries headquarters.  
  
"Alfred will drop you by the lab, and arrange your room at the Ambassador," he said opening the door. "Please Doctor, see what you can find, I don't know why but the friend we're doing this for seemed to think it was very urgent." He left her there to absorb what little he'd told her.  
  
#  
  
"So glad you could see me on such short notice Anthony." He said, walking into the back room. Tony Fontana's goons eyed him nervously.  
  
"Sure, Joker, no problem," Tony said as coolly as he could. Harley watched him closely. He looked like a little junkyard dog confronted with a lion. He was still on his home turf, but he was defending it nervously.  
  
"Wonderful place you've got here Tones." Joker said, running a finger through the dust on the bar. He smiled at Tony manically. She really hoped that Mr. J wouldn't go ballistic on Tony. They needed Tony's distribution network intact. They didn't have time to re-build it. Well, they probably did, but she didn't want to help the boss re-build a crime organization, she wanted to sample as many victims as she could. She wanted to drive the boss mad with jealously.  
  
"Thanks," Tony said guardedly. He looked at his number one guy, shooing him out of the room. Of course he would it wouldn't do at all for Joker to kill both of them. That had to be why Joker was here right?  
  
"Listen Tones," Joker said, pulling a chair from the table, flipping it around and sitting on it backwards, just a foot from Tony. "I've got a business proposition for yah. I've got kind of a pilot project I'd like to run past you."  
  
"Like those test market things, like Pepsi AM." Tony said nervously. He obviously wasn't the brightest flash bulb in the press corps, Harley thought. It actually worked to their advantage. She played with one of the goons ties, running her hand on his muscular torso.  
  
"Yeah Tony, Yeah exactly. We talked to Jerome first of course, but he didn't want to play with Harley and Me. Can you imagine that? We're such fun we can't imagine anyone that wouldn't want to play with us, can we Harley dear?" He said, a mischevious grin on his face.  
  
"Nah Mr. J," she said, sliding her hand down the front of the goon's pants. She fond what she was looking for and smiled wide, looking into the goon's eyes. "Jerome was too much of a square to play with us. He hurt my widdle feelings." She pouted. She felt the goon twitch as she threw a kiss at him.  
  
"You're not a square are you Tony?" Joker asked, suddenly deadly serious. She turned around the rubbed her ass on the goon, partly to excite him more, partly so she could see Tony's face. Mr. J's back was to her, she put her finger to her lips, telling Tony to be quiet about what she was doing.  
  
"Nah, Joker, I ain't no square. We can be yer test market." He said. She had to give Tony credit, he wasn't sweating yet, hadn't stuttered. Maybe Mr. J's aura of evil was wearing off with age. She didn't think so though. Maybe Tony was just that cool. Wasn't that a delicious thought. If Mr. J couldn't instill the proper fear in him perhaps she could.  
  
"Good Tony, Good." Joker said, all smiles again. "Harley dear take you ass off that guy's dick." He said. How did he know? How? "My boys will be by with a few boxes of our product. See that it gets into your network tonight. Not too much, just a little taste for the kiddies." He said, turning suddenly to see her still grinding against the goon.  
  
"Harley. Am I going to have to discipline you?" He asked. She smiled at him toothily.  
  
"I've been naughty Mr. J. I think I need to be spanked." She said, presenting her ass to him. He just walked past.  
  
"Come along Slone dear." He said in his best Ferris Buehler voice. She fumed. What did she have to do to get him into a jealous rage? She felt like a lioness in heat. If he didn't pop her soon she might have to throw him down and have her way with him. Wasn't that an intoxicating thought? She smiled again as she followed him out.  
  
#  
  
"Three more last night." Liz said as he walked into the bullpen. Jerome's mistress had disappeared into the night. It wasn't unusual actually, not in the underworld that populated Gotham's seedier neighborhoods, and Gotham had its share.  
  
"Vigota's boys?" He asked. He figured that there would be retaliation for icing the Fontana family's drug czar. This really should be a case for the organized crime unit not Homocide.  
  
"No Frank, they were kids. Same physical effects as Jerome." She said.  
  
"Kids?" He asked. He'd had his coffee already, but he still wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.  
  
"Kids, Ravers. Same smile on the face, same E and Coke cocktail in the blood I'll bet."  
  
"Same MO?" He asked, looking at his computer. There was the usual junk e- mail there, nothing that jumped out at him. He was trying to distract his mind. Kids, it didn't make sense.  
  
"Sorta. They all died en flagrante delecto. We're holding their 'partners' for questioning, two girls and a guy."  
  
"Why didn't you call me." He asked, with a sting in his voice.  
  
"Oh, I tried, your cell battery must have died." He winced. It hadn't died, he'd turned it off after his fourth shot of vodka. He couldn't get the grin on Jerome's face out of his head, or the faces of the Joker's other victims all those years ago when he'd been a rookie investigator.  
  
"You get anything out of them?" he sighed.  
  
"All of them visited Jimmy Wong's roving rave last night." She said.  
  
"Don't make sense." Jimmy may have been on the Fontana family's take, but he ran a pretty tight rave, didn't usually draw too much attention, and he paid off the proper cops, he sold good shit and kept his nose clean.  
  
"Nope. Guess we're goin' to talk to Jimmy Wong 'eh?" 


End file.
